Strings Attached
by Thecattygrl
Summary: The City is over run with rival mafia groups, but the biggest and most dangerous of them all would definitely be the Russians and the Italians. When both these rival leaders fall for the same guy, you can assume !@# will hit the fan. Will Ivan get the guy? Will it be Lovino? Will there be a third mysterious party that wins? Only these pages can tell you the end result...
1. Chapter 1

**Catty: **_Hey there, guys! You've been real great so far in taking interest in some of my stories and I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all (fu)sososo much!_

_'Kay, so basically, I've been recently turned onto Romerica because of one of my RP partners and I've always had a thing for Mafia!talia (Pirate!talia, too, but that's not relevant to this particular story. Sorry). Because of that, I've decided to write a little fic. _

_The main ships will be Romerica and Rusame, but there will also be sideships including but not limited to Fruk, Prucan, Gerita and many others._

_Well, thanks, again and enjoy the fic! _

* * *

The night was a chilly one. Lovino stood outside, a cigarette stuck between his teeth; idly pulling it out, twirling it once and replacing it every once in a while. Lights flashed on the signs from the street, words like _Open _and _Free_ and _Liquor_ especially doing so.

"Fratello," his brother tugged gently on his sleeve, "I don't think he's coming."

"Oh, he's coming," Lovino assured the other man, brushing him off and tossing his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it, "Don't touch my suit, Feliciano. It's expensive."

"Oh! My apologies." Lovino glanced out of the corner of his eye at the Italian Man. They were both very similar in appearance and many would mistake them for twins - Not surprising since they both shared the chocolate brown hair that never seemed to listen to either of them despite threats, bargains, side deals and even actual murder attempts towards their mops. An identical curl that was most likely genetic separated them from the average Italian citizen and as the Mob bosses they were. Lovino was the eldest and, therefore, the head of business, but their power in practice was usually pretty equal. The only thing that _really_ set the two apart were their personalities. While Feliciano was constantly smiling or fretting over something or just being an adorable little shit, Lovino was the more serious and - as far as he was concerned - more mature of the two.

Just then, a shuffling came from the opposite end of the alley and they both glanced up to see who it was. The man at the head of the procession was a tall danish one, consisting of the most outrageous looking spiked hair and he usually had his signature smirk on his face, but it seemed to be missing now. This was Magnus Densen, the leader of the Northern European mob, The Nordics for shorter. Lovino knew a couple of people who called them the Nor_dicks_ and he somehow couldn't bring himself to disagree.

Following him was the four other members of his direct circle. The two brothers, Erik and Lukas, stood together, wearing identical expressions despite the younger's constant protests of acknowledging their relation. The last two were Berwald and Tino. It was the general consensus that they were lovers, though nobody could quite prove it. They both had a kid that they raised together in a cute little house, for fuck's sake. If they weren't together, there was probably a serious amount of _No homos _that had to be tossed around on a regular basis.

Speaking of the kid, Lovino nodded towards his brother and Feliciano took off, understanding a non-spoken code for what it was. Lovino kept his eyes on the Nordics before him, waiting for one of them to speak up.

"Where is he?" Magnus finally spoke, anger radiating off him. It seems he was reluctant to be here, negotiating with a rival mob, but no man could honestly deny Tino a request when he pulled out the waterworks. Even the police were often forced to let him go with a warning when he produced a few crocodile tears. If Lovino could teach Feliciano to do that, they'd save so much money otherwise used to bribe that damn british fruitcake who was head of the police force downtown.

"He's coming," Lovino answered, "Where's our side of the exchange?" Berwald held up an envelope in one hand.

"Everything we were able to discover about the Russians," The envelope was tossed in his direction and Lovino plucked it out of the air. He pulled open the flap and briefly looked through the contents to make sure it was credible.

"Great," he tucked it under his arm. Feliciano returned then, leading a person shorter than even them and with a bag over their head. They were sniffling and Lovino growled to shut them up. Pulling the bag off revealed blonde hair and frightened blue eyes.

"Peter!" Tino exclaimed, his feet moving towards his precious baby, but he was stopped by Berwald.

"Give us the kid," Magnus ordered, "We kept up our half, you keep yours."

"Gladly. He's a brat, anyways," Lovino agreed and Feliciano pushed him forward, causing the boy who barely looked older than eleven or twelve to stumble. Tino was quick to wrap him up in his arms as soon as he was within reach and they both fell to the ground, sobbing out of relief.

"Mama!" Peter murmured, weakly.

"Shhh. It's alright, Peter. Mama's here," Tino petted his head. Magnus sent them a dirty look, so Berwald pulled them to their feet, an hand on either of their shoulders.

"Well, I think this exchange is just about wrapped up-" Lovino stated, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"I think not," answered a cold voice from behind them. All eyes shifted to the sound of the voice and they were met with cold violet eyes. Several others emerged from the other end of the ally, trapping them.

Lovino cursed under his breath. It was the Russians.

"Get out of here, Braginsky," Lovino commanded, "This exchange has nothing to do with you."

"I think it does," Ivan nodded, "See, those bastards gave you something thing that wasn't theirs to give. I suggest you hand it over."

"What? This?" Lovino snickered, holding up the envelope, "Yeah right. Get lost."

"If you're not willing to hand it over then we will take other measures, da?" his lip curled and a female stepped up beside him. She had blonde hair that travelled freely down to her waist. A knife was clutched in one hand, as if it was some kind of prized possession.

"Can I have the happy one, brother?" she wondered, almost sounding sweet despite her words, "I would _love_ to see how long it takes before he can't cry anymore." Feliciano ducked behind Lovino and even he shivered in terror, but a leader had to keep face and so he did.

"You keep your psychos away from my siblings else I'll have to return the favor," he threatened.

"Feel free, Sister," Ivan said, simply. She grinned and charged forward, knife branded. Lovino expected her to take her straight on and he pulled out his gun to shoot her down, but she kicked it and him out of the way, landing perfectly on the other italian.

"Mmm… How loud do you think you can scream before even the cops can't look away," she trailed a knife across his cheek.

"_Fratello_!" Feliciano pleaded, tears falling down his face. The Nordics began to back away, not wanting to get into a shuffle with the two most powerful mobs in the city. The Russians were powerful simply by reputation and terror, since several stories existed where they'd brutally murdered those in opposition to them with ease and even a smile, despite their small numbers. The Italians, in comparison, were not so much terrifying themselves as their sections were. For years, they'd been integrating other, smaller groups in - Like some kind of underground Roman Empire. Their most recent addition, the Beilschmidt brothers - were the handy work of none other than Feliciano, himself. The retreating Nordics were stopped by three more men, all holding a choice weapon.

"You do not think I let you off so easy," Ivan crackled, "Getting involved with Italians is bad idea. You should know better, Densen." The four members not busy with a civilian formed a wall against the three of them, realizing they'd probably have to fight after all. Lovino, realizing his brother was stuck beneath the girl with the knife, he rose to his feet to shoot her in the back of the head, but Ivan snuck up behind him, holding his back by the neck with his pipe.

"B-bastard! Lemme go!" he hissed, pulling at the pipe to no avail.

"Say your goodbyes, Vargas," Ivan cooed in his ear, "We're going to bring the Roman Empire crashing to ground once again."

Lovino squirmed a bit, "Over my dead body." He shot Ivan in the foot, distracting the Russian enough to loosen his hold so he could slip away. He turned quickly and shot Ivan in the hand, forcing him to drop his pipe as well. As the female turned at the gunshot, fearing for her brother, Feliciano managed to reveal a gun as well, clipping her in the shoulder and kicking her off, switching places and pounding her face in. She slashed her knife, catching him across the cheek, but he ignored it with only a hiss and knocked it away.

"You shouldn't have come here, Bastard," Lovino smirked, his gun pointed directly at Ivan, "I'mma teach you a lesson about manners you'll never forget."

"As exciting as that sounds," Ivan grinned, showing off the folder like a prize, "I got what I came for. Natasha, let's go." She kicked her attacker off with a foot to the stomach. Grabbing her knife as she went, she buried it Lovino's gun-wielding arm, making him cry out and blood soaked his suit.

"We will see one another, again, Vargas," Ivan sang, taking off with her. The other three men followed along as well, leaving the Nordics panting and momentarily defenseless.

Lovino took away his hand, red dripping from his fingers. Anger flared in his green eyes, which Feliciano could have felt from _miles_ away, "Fratello?"

He hissed and dropped his hand, ignoring the pain in his arm and storming over to the Nordics, ripping Peter away from Toni, who shouted in protest. He pointed his gun at the frightened boy and turned it on the others when they tried to move in to help him.

"Don't you dare. I'll kill you all and him, so help me. Drop your weapons," Lovino threatened, the look in his eyes assuring no funny-business. One by one, they all dropped their weapons.

"Feliciano," Lovino called his brother over. The younger Italian came over, keeping his own weapon trained on them. Lovino turned back to Peter, who was whimpering in fear.

"W-wait!" Magnus yelled, catching the looks the entire group was giving him, "We've got more copies of the info! We'll get it to you!"

"I could care less about the information," Lovino cocked the gun, a single hand holding it steady as he gesticulated with the other, "Consider this compensation for the suit."

A gun shot rang through the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Catty: **_Wow within such a short time of this going up, you guys were so amazing. I can't thank you enough for all your support. n.n~_

_So, first things first, I want to tell you all that there probably won't be any smut in this fic simply because of ____'s rule and I'm already planning to sort of push the limits of the mature rating with everything else that it might be too much. This being said, there is a copy of this fic over on __**Archive Of Our Own**__ and I'm also planning to put it on __**Tumblr**__ at Elydoesthatwritingshit which will include the smut. Of course, this exclusion will not take away from the element of the story, so don't you worry. Trust me, it's annoying not to include all the content I've written for me, as well. Please bare with me and enjoy the fic, anyways!_

_I'mma do review responses on the next chapter 'cuz my Author's note is already really long._

* * *

Ivan was thrilled. His little ploy had been a victory and, bar for a few minor injuries that barely even counted as anything by their standards, they did so relatively unharmed. He'd decided to celebrate and went out, alone. Natasha had offered to accompany him, but he insisted that was quite alright. Mostly, he was looking for a fling and having his sister murder them mid-way through would not be ideal. He loved Natasha, he truly did, but even he had trouble with her, sometimes.

The bar was a nice one on his side of town. The place was new and relatively lively and he glanced woefully at the young adults on the dance floor. Making his way to the counter, he took a seat on one of the stools.

"Well, someone's happy," the bartender came over, smiling brightly. Ivan looked him over. He was young - Not quite as young as Raivas, perhaps, but certainly younger than himself - and had blonde hair that was probably styled to look messy. He had baby blue eyes that seemed to be alight with happiness and had an undertone of flirtation. The lights reflected off his glasses as he went about preparing drinks. The uniform he wore just hinted at the well defined form of an athlete. His nametag read _Alfred_ in curly, golden print.

"Successful day at work," Ivan nodded.

"And you're celebrating alone? Your coworkers are either jerks or insane," Alfred laughed, sliding a drink over to him, "Well, either way, congrats. That's for you - On the house."

"How kind. Thank you," Ivan accepted the drink.

"Sure thing, buddy! So, you gonna share what happened?" Alfred inquired, eyebrow quirked. Ivan's face fell a bit and he shook his head.

"Nothing of interest to you," Ivan assured, darkly. The severity of the tone seemed to go right over the bartender's head.

"Haha. Alright, there's no need to talk about it if you don't want to," Alfred assured, making a drink for a pretty blonde that was watching him with hooded eyes. He offered her a wink and exchanged a brief conversation with her before her friends came by and dragged her off to dance. Returning his attention to Ivan, he refilled his glass.

"So if you're celebrating, you got plans for tonight?" Alfred inquired, "Fine looking gentleman like you… Probably got your choice of nearly anyone."

"Depends on who's available," Ivan replied. Now that he's thought about it, this bartender would be more than ideal, "Does your shift last much longer."

Alfred laughed, confusing the Russian a little, "Suppose I should have seen myself walk into that one. As much as I'd love to, I've got another job I've got to get to. My shift gets off in about ten minutes and then I've only a few minutes to myself before I've got to get going."

Ivan, a man who was not used to taking no for an answer, frowned slightly. He wasn't willing to give up so easily, "That would be more than enough time."

"Really?" Alfred leaned forward a bit, curiously, "And where would we be, then? We certainly can't get a room in that time and I think I'm just a little higher end than to settle with an alley way."

"I've got a limo," Ivan answered, "It'll be more than comfortable."

"Well," Alfred smirked, "I suppose we could try…" Ivan grinned, triumphantly, at the wink he received . Alfred moved to go care for some other patrons, but he would glance over occasionally.

The end of his shift rolled around, to which he said goodbye to his coworker and hurried to change out of the uniform, rushing out so he'd have plenty of time. A driver was heading into the bar just as he was leaving. A few feet away, leaning against a shiny black limo, was Ivan. He bounced over and took the offered hand that helped him in, pulling the larger man in and the door was shut behind him.

"Hey, uh… I don't think I got your name," Alfred mentioned.

"Ivan," he answered, "And you are _Alfred_, correct?"

"Yeah," he nodded. There was something about how Ivan said it that sent shivers through him. There wasn't a moment wasted with such things, though, because they both knew they were pressed for time. Alfred was the first to move, taking Ivan by the lapels and kissing him. The Russian was quick to follow, though, deepening the kiss.

* * *

"Don't you have to get going?" Ivan asked, running his hand through Alfred's mused hair. Both of them were tired from their activities.

"I can be a few minutes late," Alfred mumbled back, tired, "God, you were _fantastic_." Ivan smirked in pride.


	3. Chapter 3

**Catty: **_Heey! Thanks for getting this far, guys! Always love the reviews and stuff! Y'all are amaze._

28505 - _Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy the updates just as much as the beginning._

RealmOfTheAbsurd - _Oh, trust me. It gets much worse. MWAHAHAHAA_

starrenPI - _They're my favorite's too. You're really sweet, by the way, and thanks a ton for the review! I hope you enjoy this chapter, too!_

* * *

Lovino glanced over briefly at the counter when the bartender called in greeting to someone. He'd been sitting at a corner table out of plain sight for a while now, emitting a dark aura. The boy - _Matthew_, as his name tag said - had been nice enough, bringing him drinks while his French coworker - a man named Francis and the owner of the bar - manned the counter. Part of the Italian thought it was solely because he wanted to avoid his coworker's hovering and weird affection, but Lovino didn't exactly care enough to ask.

"Mattie!" the new arrival waved, speaking louder than anyone else in the room, including the other customers, "How're things? Papa working you to the bone, still?"

"_Perdon?_," the Frenchman demanded, insulted, "As if I would do such a thing to my darling _Matthieu_."

"Nah, mostly he's just been scaring away customers by fawning over me," Matthew replied, crossing his arms in amusement.

"Should have guessed it," the boy chuckled, straightening out his vest and pinning his tag to it. The name printed across it said _Alfred_ and he'd caught Lovino's attention almost immediately.

"Oh _mon bebes_! How could you team up against Papa like this?" Francis demanded, theatrics at full blast with teary eyes and everything. The boys laughed. Leaving the man to wallow for a moment, Matthew unpinned his own tag and filled Alfred up on all the costumers. Their eyes locked for just a moment when Matthew's explanations carried to his end of the room and Lovino had to turn away from the smile sent in his direction, his face suddenly feeling warm. It wasn't really his fault, to be fair. It's just a side effect of coming in contact with the sun.

"Later, Mattie!" Alfred waved to his brother as the quieter boy left. Francis, seemingly recovered from his trauma from earlier, settled beside Alfred behind the counter, talking to him in a voice too low for Lovino to hear from where he was sitting. He told himself he was looking for entertainment that he suddenly moved to the counter. He was bored. It wasn't curiosity and it _certainly_ wasn't envy. Of course not. That's ridiculous.

"Onhonhon, what is this?" Francis caught sight of him, sliding over to focus his attention on the Italian, "It was quite lonely over in that corner, _Monsieur_, _oui_? I couldn't imagine you wanting to stay away from _moi_ very long." He winked and leaned forward on the bar, closer to the Italian. Lovino growled, lowly, but it went unnoticed as Alfred took Francis by the back of the shirt and pulled him away with an eye roll.

"It's like you forget you're a married man," the boy stated, taking his spot before Francis could bother their customer any further, "At least go flirt with the ladies who _want_ your attention and leave this poor guy alone?"

"It is not as though your mama would be happy either way," Francis chuckled, but complied, taking orders from some of the lovely ladies down the way.

"Sorry about him," Alfred gave Lovino a smile, also leaning on the counter towards him, but not nearly as much. He still seemed like he was flirting, but it was subtle, a tad more reserved. Like he was testing the waters, first, "Hate to say I'm related to the guy, really, but what can I do. Family is family. You want a refill?" The Italian kept a neutral expression but slid his glass across the counter, which Alfred caught with ease.

"You seem a little miserable, _Ami_," Alfred held the full glass back out to him, "You sure you don't want something a little stronger?"

"Tch. I've got a bastard brother at home who'd skin me if I show up drunk," Lovino grumbled, taking the glass back, and drinking half of it in one go, "Though, he hardly does much talking at all, these days - Except in _German_."

"Oh _that_ sounds like jealousy," Alfred noted, resting his elbows on the counter, eager to hear the gossip, "Tell me all about your troubles. A little alcohol and a shoulder to cry on can do wonders."

"I'm not jealous!" Lovino snapped, his anger leaking a little into visibility. It wasn't his fault his _stupid _brother hooked up with that damn _German_. Sure, there was still the other one, but he wasn't exactly a Vargas' type of romantic. To be fair, neither was Ludwig, but at least he wasn't _obnoxious_.

Either the tone went completely over Alfred's head or he ignored it, "Aw, it's alright. We've all been in that spot in our lives. The boy who just walked outta here? He's my brother and when we were little, he used to have all the ladies. There was this one girl - Julchen was her name - Prettiest girl I'd met, at the time, and totally awesome. Even she was all over him, in her own way. Of course, I've become better with the ladies more recently since they sort of realized they want a partner that can talk, but the sentiment is still there."

"This is hardly the same situation," Lovino stated, although he did feel a little. He hardly felt like Alfred could even _begin _to connect to him and his life, but for that split second, he felt like he could do so with just an average guy - Admittedly, a very _attractive _average guy, but none the less. It was nice - Even if he'd never admit it.

"Are you sure you don't want something a _little_ stronger?"

"I said no, you stupid bastard!"

He spent the next few hours at the bar, far later than he intended, but talking to Alfred was… Intriguing. He could see Francis glancing at them warily, especially whenever Lovino raised his voice, but that was only because _he _knew. Of course he did. He was a highly successful business man not only in this region of town, but in _every _region in town. Even if he didn't own the main bar for just about every mafia group - Including a nice new location in Russian territory - he was still married to the head of the police force. That man was untouchable, so long as Lovino wanted the bribes to work. Francis wasn't stupid, though. He knew _exactly _who his son was talking to and it irritated the Italian to no end to be looked at with such hostility but treated with kindness. It was fake. He hated fake people - It was part of the reason he couldn't stand himself, either.

The other patrons had all cleared out and Francis was wiping down the counter, but Alfred was still there, talking to him like he had nothing better to do in the world. The night had went on and the brunette had become more aware of more of the boy in front of him. He wouldn't have admitted, but he might have even smiled, just the tiniest bit. Considering he'd come in a few hours ago and wanted to drink himself into a stupor after killing a kid, well… It was surprising, to say the least.

"Alfred," Francis' voice cut into their conversation, "You really aught to get going. I'm sure Mama will be worried if you don't get home on time, tonight."

"He's always worried," Alfred pointed out, chuckling, "Besides, you know I'm not going home, Pops. I've gotta go pick up milk at the gas station - I promised that him I would."

"I'm sure he would understand why you didn't. It's very late," Francis replied, "I could give you a ride home."

"I can walk," Alfred declined.

"I'd rather you didn't," Francis pressured, glancing quickly at the Italian, who glared right back.

"I've walked on these streets my whole life, Papa. I'll be fine," the blonde boy insisted, "I'mma leave in a second, 'Kay? Lemme just grab my stuff." Alfred disappeared into the back room and Lovino took the time to finish his drink, sliding the glass across the counter to where Francis was.

"I do hope I needn't remind you my husband is the head of police," Francis stuck his nose in the air a little.

"Don't worry, Dollface. I ain't gonna hurt your baby boy," Lovino smirked, pulling a cigarette pack out of his pocket and sticking one between his teeth. He turned on his heel and left the building, smoking just outside.

"Dollface? Who exactly do you think you're talking to like-"

"Back!" Alfred cheered, changed and with a bag slung over his shoulder. He stepped up to Francis and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, "I'll be home, soon, 'Kay? Tell Mama not to worry." With that, he jumped over the counter and took the few steps out the front. Francis couldn't hear them, anymore, but he could see Alfred pluck the cigarette from Lovino's mouth and toss it over his shoulder.

He just prayed that his boy's charming good looks and radiant personality would be enough to make up for his naivety.

* * *

"Woah," Alfred blinked up at the hotel a few times, "You do know we could have gotten something a lot cheaper, right?"

"Please. I wouldn't be caught dead in anything with any place with less that four stars," Lovino scoffed, moving towards the entrance, "Even that's pushing it. Who the hell do you take me for?"

"Well, considering the last time I had sex with someone it was in the back of a vehicle, I really wasn't expecting anything this big," Alfred admitted, holding the door open for him. He wandered in, nose in the air and ignored the tight feeling in his chest at the comment. He _wasn't_ jealous. Of course not. This was a one night stand and then he'd probably never see this guy, again. That was perfectly fine and he could care less.

Alfred waited sort of awkwardly while Lovino picked up the keys. He'd had one of his men pay for them already and, given his reputation, the wait was nonexistent. He pushed the blonde towards the elevators before anyone could question his outfit. The room was very near the elevator and the younger man pushed in as soon as the door was unlocked, revealing in everything like a child. Lovino let him scamper about for a moment as he set about taking off his shoes and setting his things aside where they were out of sight before walking over to the only bed in the room and grabbing Alfred and tossing him onto it. He landed with a soft _oof_ and looked a little confused before he saw Lovino hovering above him. His expression changed in mere seconds from childish wonder to something a lot more sexual.

"You're really easily impressed, aren't you?" Lovino noted, his hands sliding over Alfred's body. He could already tell there was definitely the toned muscles of an athlete beneath his clothes. The outfit he wore really didn't do him justice and Lovino felt almost desperate to get it off - _Almost_.

"That's mean," Alfred informed.

Lovino chuckled to himself, pressing kisses to Alfred's neck, "I'm not a very nice person."

"I don't think that," Alfred mumbled. Lovino placed his mouth over the blonde's, just to shut him up. This kid was obviously incredibly stupid and naive, but he sort of like that. He had that certain sparkle in his eye that most people lost by the time they were sixteen in that area. He was different. _Special_. The Italian wanted to claim him so badly. He was a collector of rare and beautiful things by nature and Alfred was a once in a lifetime type of person. More like an artist's masterpiece than the dull mass production he faced regularly.

* * *

Alfred looked incredibly tired and was laying on his side, facing towards Lovino as he crawled onto the bed, settling beside the warm body. The Italian brushed aside a hair strand to stare into those baby blue eyes, hooded and content.

"_Dipinte da mani di Dio_," he whispered. There was no artist better, after all.

"Hmm?" Alfred wondered.

"It's Italian."

"What's it mean?" Alfred questioned. Lovino just shook his head. This was one piece of work that wasn't for sale, so bidding on it would be pointless. He just had to treasure the moments he had to admire it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Catty:** _And the plot thickens~! I hope ya'll like this chapter even if it's mostly FACE centric and really doesn't talk much about Romano or Russia. It's super important to the plot, though, so I need to include it. Plus FACE family is my lifeblood so..._

bippityboppity - _Well of course! That's the best part. Thanks a ton for reading and I'm glad you liked it. n.n~_

the amazing fiesta queen - _Aw, you're really sweet. Thanks a ton and here is your update~_

* * *

Alfred unlocked the door, walking through and closing it behind him as silently as he could since it was so late at night. He flipped the light switch on and kicked his shoes off, hanging his coat on the hook. Before he could even take one step out of the tiny front room, he was practically tackled to the ground.

"Alfred!" The shorter of the two blondes was practically in hysterics and the other was only slightly better off. He managed to keep them from smothering him to death with a little difficulty.

"It's really late. Don't you guys have work tomorrow?" Alfred questioned, slipping out of their grasps and darting for the kitchen. He rummaged through the fridge and pulled out a plate covered with _saran wrap_. Francis removed the plate and went to heat it up for him while Arthur ushered him into his seat, taking the opportunity to touch his face and hair and back to just make sure he was definitely there. Alfred waved him away with an annoyed look, only letting him go back to doing it when he was throughly distracted with the food Francis placed in front of him. The fish fry was by no means the best he'd ever had, but it was one of the few things Arthur knew how to make without burning to a crisp and so he didn't complain.

"Alfred," Francis took a seat opposite him, hands folded. The younger male glanced up briefly, but continued shoveling food in his mouth. It was a well known fact that if they pressured him into talking he would start doing so with his mouth full and they raised him better than that, so Francis kept talking without any verbal response, "We were very worried about you, tonight. I don't like the idea of you wandering off with strangers after work. It's not safe." Alfred returned the comment with a _you have to be kidding me_ look.

"Don't look at your father in that tone, young man!" Arthur scolded, smacking him on the back of the head, "What if that had been some kind of psycho murderer? You could have been dropped in an alley, long dead, and we would have been heartbroken! What do you think Mattie would have felt having to stare at your dead body at a funeral?"

"You can't be serious! I don't have to explain what I do! I'm twenty years old, Dad, and more than capable of taking care of myself! I wasn't going with some psycho murderer!" Alfred returned, swallowing quickly and a forkful of food halfway to his mouth.

"Don't go waving your food around like that! You're still such a child! Didn't you learn anything we told you about stranger danger?" Arthur hissed.

"I didn't get into any white van, did I? I can myself! I could have easily overpowered that guy! You should have seen the Russian that I ran into earlier today! At least some concern might have been _warranted, _then, but this Italian guy was tiny! Barely taller than you!"

"You are such a selfish little brat!"

"It's not my fault that nobody wants to talk to you! Maybe if you didn't have a stick up your ass all the time, you could have some friends, too!"

"Alfred Fitzgerald Jones!"

"Enough!" Francis interrupted, drawing both of their attention, "Bickering over the past is not going to fix this. Nor is throwing mud. Alfred, apologize to your father."

The young blond's eyes were suddenly painted in guilt and he cast his glance downward, "'M sorry, Dad. You have plenty of friends. I got a little out of hand." Arthur glared at Francis, but accepted the apology and petted Alfred's hair to calm them both down.

"_Bon garçon,_" Francis praised, smiling just the tiniest bit when Alfred peeked up at him, "Now, Alfred, you know we love you, right? And only want what's best for you?" He nodded, silently.

"Yes, Papa."

"And you know we wouldn't confront you if we weren't concerned about your wellbeing?"

"Yes, Papa."

"So I don't want you going places with strangers, late at night, anymore. It's not safe."

"But-"

"It's not like you can't still make friends, Alfred," Arthur assured, placing a kiss to his forehead, "You should just get yourself a cute girlfriend, already. It would make everything a lot easier for you."

"Or cute boyfriend," Francis winked.

"Uhg. Whatever," Alfred rolled his eyes, standing up from his chair, "I'm going to bed." They watched him walk out. A moment later, he returned to get the half-eaten plate of food and took it with him. Both of the boy's parents chuckled, quietly. It faded to silence as they both contemplated the previous conversation.

"You know, we're going to have to tell the boys about this town, eventually. We can't keep them sheltered forever," Francis sighed, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Arthur took the seat Alfred had just vacated.

"But then what was the point of us working so hard to get this powerful?" Arthur grumbled, "Opening several successful bars across town was no easy feat and don't even get me started on what I had to do to climb the ranks down at the station."

"_Oui_. I certainly wouldn't want all that to go to waste."

"I hate to say it, but I wish they'd just… Go away," Arthur muttered, "Go live in some other city or maybe in the middle of nowhere and meet some sweet small-town town person and make a little family and never ever come back here…"

"Of course you do, _mon cher_," Francis smiled, sweetly, "And we would have taken them out of here long ago if it wasn't…"

"If it wasn't for your sister," Arthur finished, averting his eyes. Francis went over to him and kissed the top of his head.

"Do not think about that, right now, Arthur. Alfred was right - It is indeed very late. Why don't we go to bed?"

"Alright…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Catty: **_Whoops sorry about the weird upload, guys. I hope that fixed it._

* * *

"What do you mean you forgot how to talk to girls?" Matthew demanded, not really able to deal with his brother's crap at the moment. He had left the counter unattended for a second to drag the boy back out to the front and if Francis knew he'd be skinned alive.

"I mean what I said!" Alfred replied, his voice sounding a little to high, "I can't do this, Mattie!"

"Alfred, you do this every day of your life," Matthew rolled his eyes.

"But not when I'm trying to pick someone up… Okay, well maybe, but never when I'm looking for a _girlfriend_," Alfred whined, dragging his feet. Matthew pushed him into a stool behind the counter and quickly apologized to the customer waiting with her empty glass. As soon as she was cared for, Matthew returned his attention to Alfred.

"Alfred, you shouldn't be trying to pick up costumers, anyways," Matthew stated, "It's not proper and makes it look like we're buying their services with sex."

"Pfft. Whatever. You're just jealous that they like me better," Alfred snorted.

"I don't even understand why you feel like you have to get a girlfriend, anyways," Matthew demanded.

"Because Mom said-"

"I'm pretty sure they meant it as a _suggestion_," Matthew interjected, irritated, "Because you seem to get yourself in trouble when you're not tied down and it would be a lot easier to watch out for you with someone else in the picture. The three of us are at our wits end."

"I didn't ask you to do it," Alfred grumbled, crossing his arms.

"No. You wouldn't have thought that far in advance."

"Hey!"

"Look," Matthew shoved a drink in his hand and gestured to a table across the room, "See that girl right there? The one with the flower in her hair?"

"Oh, that chick with the Princess Laia hair and too big shirt?"

"Yeah. Her. Take this drink over and use your hero charm, Alfred. Trust me, if anyone can do it, it's you. Just, instead of promising her sex, try to get a _cell number_, okay? You'll have plenty of people trying to be your girlfriend in no time."

"Right! Thanks, Mattie! I owe you one."

"Yeah…"

* * *

"I can't believe this," Alfred stared at the slips of paper sprawled across the table. He'd been careful to wash off the numbers each girl - and a few men - had written on his hand after copying them over to these pieces of paper. Matthew was equally impressed.

"Alfred, how the hell are you not already in a relationship?" Matthew questioned.

"Well, I tried to get Julchen, once upon a time, but alas she loved another. I could never bring myself to do the same," the blue-eyed brother joked.

"That's what you get for being an asshole as a kid," Matthew returned, smugly.

"I was not! I was a hero!"

"You pushed Kyle in the pool."

"He wanted to swim! That was how Uncle Oliver's creepy boyfriend taught us how."

"You put a frog in Regina's lunchbox."

"I thought it was cool! I wanted to surprise her with a gift!"

"You broke Jett's nose."

"He's family - That doesn't count."

"_Mon bebes_!" Francis burst into the door, interrupting their conversation, "How has Papa's darlings been holding up?"

"Papa!" Alfred cheered, "Hi! It's been going well. Nothing we couldn't handle!"

"We're talking about how horrible of a kid Alfred was, at the moment," Matthew explained.

"Oh, _oui_, he was…" Francis began, but stopped himself when he caught Alfred's hurt look, "…The most darling little boy. Full of life. Everyone loved him."

"Ha! See?" Alfred turned to Matthew, victoriously, "I was a _great _kid!" Matthew shot Francis a disapproving look, but the Frenchman was already moving on.

"_Ohonhon_, what is this?" Francis questioned, noticing the slips of paper on the counter.

"Alfred's trying to find a girlfriend," Matthew explained, "These are the numbers of all the people who seemed willing to go out with him."

"_Mon dieu_! Did you hit on every person who walked through the door?" Francis exclaimed.

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do, anyways?"


End file.
